The Prince of Teeth's Edge Mountains

By George Carvalho

An aging King.

A foolish Prince.
A kingdom at peace.
Dwarven Prince Eric Jerntorn likes nothing more then to party and get drunk. To teach his son a lesson, the King sends him on an expedition to help the Elves evacuate their war-torn homeland. But when the Prince is kidnapped by enemy forces, it unleashes a sequence of events that changes the Dwarven kingdom forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Animaza Studios
• Release date: Apr 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201691905

Book preview

Prologue

The Great Forest was on fire, the incandescent flames extending as far as the eye could see.

Two Elves ran as fast as they could as the forest burned around them, each carrying a small box.

In the distance, they saw the walls to their city peaking from behind the flaming trees.

They were almost there!

Several arrows rained from above, hitting them. The younger Elf took an arrow to the shoulder, while it hit the older Elf in the upper leg. Both fell to the forest floor.

The older Elf looked at his comrade on the ground with his box next to him. The older Elf crawled over and pulled out the arrow from the younger Elf’s shoulder.

I can’t run anymore! the older Elf said in their Elven tongue as he looked at his leg. I’ll hold them off! he said, handing the younger Elf his box.

The younger Elf hesitated for a moment as more arrows flew by.

Just get these home, the older Elf said.

The younger Elf got up and ran to the wall.

The Elf pulled the arrow out of his leg, placed his hand to staunch the flow of blood, and dragged himself behind a burnt tree.

More arrows whizzed by. The enemy was approaching fast.

The Elf pulled out a dagger and waited for the enemy to approach. He glanced to his right to check on his comrade and saw him trip and fall.

No... the older Elf whispered.

The younger Elf got up and continued running, but he was limping terribly and wouldn’t make it.

I have to buy time... the older Elf said. He looked down and grabbed a large piece of burnt tree bark. He held it up as a shield and moved toward the enemy, doing his best to fight the searing pain in his leg.

Enemy arrows pierced the bark, breaking it in two. The Elf managed to get close enough to lunge at one of the enemy soldiers, dagger in hand.

The soldier, a heavily armored knight, easily fought off the injured Elf as the rest of the enemy squad pulled back and drew their swords.

The Elf was surrounded.

Archers, focus on the runaway! one of the knights ordered.

As the knights jumped on the Elf and slashed at him with their swords, an archer behind the troops drew his bow and aimed at the runaway Elf.

The older Elf knew it all hinged on this moment. With his last breath, he leaped up from his captors and threw his dagger at the archer. It flew through the air in slow motion, hitting the archer’s bow as it loosed its arrow.

As the older Elf was cut down, he saw out of the corner of his eye the arrow land just inches away from the other Elf.

Good, he said to himself as he fell to the ground dying.

The younger Elf finally reached the walls.

Elven troops dropped ropes and pulled him up.

Here, he said handing over the boxes and promptly collapsed due to exhaustion.

An Elf ran down the walls with the boxes and handed them to a Centaur. The Centaur took the boxes and galloped through the Elven city toward their port.

When he reached the port, several Gnomes were waiting for him with the High Speaker of the Elves, and he handed them the boxes. The Gnomes opened them with great reverence. Inside each box were two messenger birds. One of the Gnomes attached a small tube on a bird’s right leg, while another wrote a message, dictated by the High Speaker, on a tiny piece of paper before rolling it up and placing it inside the small tube attached to the bird.

The Gnome handed the bird to the High Speaker. The Elf closed his eyes for a moment then released it as a cloud of smoke descended on their position.

Will it make it to the Dwarves? the Gnome asked the High Speaker.

It must, or all is lost, replied the High Speaker.

Part I

Chapter 1

We live underground for a reason,

Admear said to himself as he read the Daily Scribe, the daily compilation of news events from around the kingdom and continent. Every morning a courier nailed it to the front of the throne room. That morning he discovered the Great Forest was under attack by Lord Roth’s forces. They had placed the article right under the obituaries.

Admear was head of the Aviary Messaging Guild for the Dwarven Kingdom at Teeth’s Edge Mountains and enjoyed living underground. The surface world was a place of endless war and chaos while the underground represented peace and security.

Ironic that it was his job to send and receive messages from the surface; a job his clan had been doing for generations.

He had just sat down at his desk at 7:30 in the morning when the bell rang in the bird alcove.

That’s odd, he said to himself. Were there any birds scheduled to arrive this mornin’? he asked his son, Bent.

Birds? Don’t they fly in later? Bent asked as he swept the floor.

The lad’s right, Admear thought. Usually, they released homing pigeons in the morning, landing late afternoon. If this bird just arrived, it either meant it flew a very short distance or it flew all night from very far away.

Maybe it came from Bear Mountain, Admear said.

The Dwarven colony was always asking for more supplies from the King, especially since it was the dry season and crops would be short.

Admear walked up the small flight of stairs to the alcove where the birds landed and opened the little cage. He noticed black soot stained the recent arrival.

Was there a fire nearby? He thought, wondering if the bird flew through a cloud of smoke.

He carefully unwrapped the message attached to the bird’s leg, soot covering his hands. Before he read the message, he grabbed a small towel and wiped down the bird. The bird did not fight him and thirstily drank from a cup of water. It soon fell asleep, making soft cooing noises.

Admear unfolded the small piece of parchment. On one side was the seal from the Elven kingdom. Elvenkind, what the Dwarves called the Elves, Fairies and Gnomes, sent them a message. The Elven kingdom in the Great Forest was a thousand miles to the south. The pigeon must have flown all day and night to get here.

The other side of the parchment contained words written in the Elvish language. Admear didn’t speak Elvish, and certainly couldn’t read it. He was familiar enough with Elvish script to know it was elegant and florid, and they often used the most complex words arranged in convoluted sentences to communicate. This message, however, was three words and looked like they wrote it in haste.

Returning to his desk with the tiny parchment in his hands, he looked up at his small shelf with dozens of dusty tomes clamoring for space.

He picked out a thin, ornately embroidered book and opened it. It was filled with Elvish words and symbols on the left side of the page, with their approximate translation to Dwarvish on the right.

The first word he couldn’t immediately find. The second word roughly translated to ‘require’ or ‘requisite’. The third word roughly translated to ‘assistance’, or ‘help’.

He went back to the first Elvish word. Since he didn’t have the full word, he pieced together the individual letters.

He finally came up with the word ‘invasion’.

He looked at the message again.

‘Invasion require assistance.’

The Elvenkind were asking for help.

Admear pulled out two new scrolls and wrote down the information twice. One scroll was kept for his records with the time, date, and sender duly noted. The second was to be sent to the person he felt could best assist the Elvenkind.

Take this to the King, lad, he said to Bent as he handed him the scroll with a royal seal.

He also attached a feather to it, meant to signify haste.

Aye.

Bent ran out of the aviary as fast as his legs could carry him, down the long flight of stairs, and into Main Hall, the cavernous center of the underground Dwarven kingdom.

When the Dwarves discovered the cavern many centuries ago, giant stalagmites held up the roof. Those stalagmites had long since been carved and reinforced into six giant stone columns. A seventh stalagmite, found in the center and larger than the rest, had also been carved into a column and it was where the throne room was located. A fountain housing the statue in the likeness of the Dwarven god Arax was located in front of it. The rest of Main Hall was filled with hearths doubling as stores, shops, guilds, taverns, forges, and everything one would expect a city to have.

Bent ran past the Potter’s Guild where new clay potteries were on display, the Baker’s Guild where he briefly stopped to smell the newly baked bread, several carts of goods being transported, and many a Dwarf getting ready to open their shops as the day began.

He reached the throne room and opened the large ornate doors. There was no one present as it was so early in the morning.

It wasn’t unusual for Dwarves to have such easy access to their King. It was a close knit community where everyone knew everyone else and, inside the Dwarven kingdom, there was nothing to fear and nothing to guard against.

Bent turned to his right where the door to King’s Equerry was open. He ran over and saw the Equerry seated at his desk.

Message, Bent said.

What’s this laddie? A message? This early? I just got ‘ere myself... Terje stopped short. He was the King’s Equerry, Keeper of the Official Records, the King’s secretary in times of peace, and aide-de-camp in times of war. He processed many messages for the King, but the ones with a feather always brought unexpected news.

He took the message and unfurled it. He paused for a moment as he read it then turned and gave Bent a silver coin. The boy’s eyes grew wide. The most he got were a few copper coins for his messages.

That’s a good lad. Make sure this information is kept... quiet for now.

Aye, sire. Thank you, sire, Bent said as he returned to the aviary.

After Bent left, the Equerry exited his office and found himself in the throne room. He kept to his right and approached another door. Opening it revealed a hallway with a deep red velvet carpet on the floor and walls lined with the busts of past Dwarven kings.

Rushlight made from filaments from the rush plant and harvested from the surface provided basic illumination. They were placed inside a lamp with a small weighted pulley where the rush stems were coiled. As the pulley was pulled by gravity, it turned gears that moved the filament up by slowly uncoiling it as the tip burned. The rush light system provided several hours of illumination at a low cost and was safe to be used in underground dwellings.

The passageway led to a final, ornate door with an alcove to receive messages. It was the entrance to the royal chambers where the King, Queen, and Prince resided.

The Equerry placed the message in the alcove. He knew what the message meant. The Great War had reached the Elvenkind, and he hoped it wouldn’t reach the Dwarves.

* * *

King Jerntorn was eating breakfast with the Queen, Amber Jerntorn.

The King ate a combination of yesterday’s stew, buttered bread, and the ever present Dwarven ale. The Queen sat across from him and watched the King eat quietly for a moment. They had been married for many years and she had seen her husband’s beard turn from a dark brown to a silvery white.

I received a letter from our son’s tutor yesterday, she began. He hasn’t been to class for several days and, when he does appear he is uninterested in learning the language of the Men or of their ways.

The King continued eating, seemingly uninterested. The Queen persevered.

He also hasn’t attended his military training classes. And when he does, he ends up being the class jester. He made fun of the sergeant in charge.

The King drank from his ale, but the Queen could see a faint smile crossed his lips. When he put the cup down his wife touched his arm. The King froze.

This isn’t amusing. He isn’t behaving the way the son of a king should behave. You have to talk to him. He might end up being arrested by the constables.

The sound of a message drop rang from the door alcove.

The King rose from the table and went to the door. He picked up the message and read it before turning to the Queen.

I will, said the King.

When?

The King, lost in thought, opened the door and walked out.

* * *

The King entered the throne room. It struck him as being cold. He looked up at the stuffed remains of a dragon he slew, hanging from the ceiling. That was many, many years ago. He turned left and approached the office where his Equerry was hunched over his desk.

My King, the Equerry said as he stood.

Assemble the Council of Elders.

Aye, my King. And what o’ the cases?

In Dwarven society, the King acted as both chief executive and judge. He had a full caseload today.

Delay them.

Aye.

And send a message to the Elvenkind.

The Equerry grabbed a quill and parchment.

Need more information to provide proper assistance. Return information as quickly as ye can, the King dictated.

The Equerry read it back to him. The King nodded in approval and walked back to the throne room.

One of the King’s official couriers arrived to begin his day’s work when the Equerry handed him the message.

Take this to the aviary, he instructed.

The courier took the message and left.

* * *

Back at the Aviary, Admear received the King’s message. He translated the request into Elvish as best he could and decided to include the original Dwarven text in case they had Dwarven translators on their end.

He went up the flight of stairs and picked out a bird, different from the one that brought the original message to allow it to rest, and placed the King’s message in the compartment on her leg.

He took the little bird and placed it on the ledge that was open to the outside. The bird looked out in the morning sun and took off.

Admear made a silent prayer to the ancestors.

* * *

Captain Jolgun Hillstone was with Sergeant Marius Drek and a group of recruits. They were marching at the base of Mount Araraz, the tallest mountain in the world.

The base of the mountain was a rocky desert with a lake that defied explanation as to how it existed. There were miles upon miles of stones extending as far as the eye could see. No vegetation, not even a blade of grass, grew in the area.

They had been at it for hours exploring the countryside before heading back to the Dwarven underground city.

We’ll take a break ‘ere, Captain Jolgun said.

The recruits collapsed on the ground under the hot sun.

What’s wrong? Don’t like the surface? Ha, ha, ha! bellowed Sergeant Marius with his booming voice.

Captain Jolgun sat on a rock and ate some of his rations. He had been promoted to Captain just last year, but participated in the training missions for much longer than that. He had a short brown beard, brown eyes, and, for a Dwarf, was slightly shorter than most, but he didn’t care. He was a soldier, happy to be a soldier, and had no interest in being anything else. Yet, despite these times of peace, Dwarves needed to maintain their training. And training outdoors on the surface, was the only way for the recruits to maintain combat readiness. In fact, most of his recruits had never been outside on the surface. Why would they? The underground city provided all the amenities they needed.

Sergeant Marius joined him as they watched the recruits. Marius was older than Jolgun by twenty years and had a thick black beard. Yet, despite looking portly, he was blessed with immense physical strength.

The recruits keep saying we live underground for a reason, the Captain said.

Aye, but they would miss the view.

Captain Jolgun didn’t know if the Sergeant was being sincere or sarcastic as he looked at the desolate landscape.

Coming around Mount Araraz was Captain Thrax Borok of the elite Dragonslayer troops, two of his sergeants, and three recruits. Thrax was a heavily muscled Dwarf wearing a custom version of the Dragonslayer armor made with dragon scales. There was heavy scarring from a terrible burn on the left side of his face and he wore an eyepatch over his left eye. A mechanical device replaced his missing left hand that allowed him to attach multiple contraptions. Right now he had an artificial hand.

Ho, Captain Jolgun. How goes the training? Thrax asked.

The Captain looked at his tired recruits. As expected. How are yers?

These are it, Thrax said.

I thought ye had twenty.

I did, Thrax said with a wry smile, and continued to lead his team around the bend.

When Thrax disappeared from view, a rumble came from up the mountain. A small avalanche raced down the mountainside and several boulders fell toward the Dwarves.

Out of the way! Captain Jolgun ordered.

The Dwarves jumped out of the way, but a boulder pinned a recruit.

Captain, me leg! he said.

When the dust cleared, they found the recruit’s leg stuck under a large boulder.

Don’t move, lad, the Sergeant said, and with his astonishing physical strength picked up the boulder and easily moved it aside.

Captain Jolgun inspected the leg.

Fractured, not broken. Good. Ye won’t be a cripple and kicked out of the mountains. Alright lads, this is a good time to learn how to treat battlefield injuries. Let’s make a tourniquet and get him back to the apothecary at Battleaxe Hall.

Ye heard the orders, let’s go! bellowed the Sergeant, and they made a makeshift tourniquet by tying the handle of an axe to the injured leg.

This is why I hate the surface. Everything unpredictable. We live underground for a reason, mumbled the Captain to himself.

* * *

After twenty minutes, they made their way to the Monastery. The oblates (monks) were part of the religious order that maintained the astronomical charts for timekeeping and ran the facility. They called themselves the Cwarnen. It was from there the Dwarves engaged in surface training for the troops.

Cleric Gifud Cragblade was there to greet them.

Back from training already? he asked.

We had an accident. We need to get back to Battleaxe Hall right away, Captain Jolgun answered.

It was always disconcerting talking to the cleric. The Cwarnen had strict rules to follow in their monastic order. Among them was they had to be clean-shaven and forswear all alcoholic beverages, including Dwarven ale–both unthinkable for the Dwarves living underground.

Perhaps, something to eat for the journey back?

The troops all looked at the Captain. Even Sergeant Marius had a hungry look in his eye.

I suppose it couldn’t hurt to take a few bites wi’ us, he said.

Very good, the Cleric said.

The Monastery, despite their strange ways, had access to food not available below. Soon, the Dwarves were feasting on fruits and carried freshly baked bread as they walked down the stairs to the tunnel that led to Main Hall. From there theywere to make their way to Battleaxe Hall where the Dwarves housed their barracks.

The tunnel had an ingenious trolley system adapted from a mine cart. Mules pulled the carts and they could add or take away more carts as needed.

It still took an hour to get to Battleaxe Hall. Once they reached their destination, they took the recruit to the apothecary and released the others.

After another break, Captain Jolgun and Sergeant Marius went to see a new batch of recruits.

Before we return to the surface, we need to take roll call, the Captain informed several nervous recruits.

Nastrel Driller, the Sergeant said.

Present.

Thrassolim Hillgrip.

Present.

Prince Eric Jerntorn.

No answer.

Prince Eric Jerntorn.

Still no answer.

Sergeant Marius looked around.

Where is the Prince? Captain Jolgun asked.

* * *

Drink friends, drink! Prince Eric Jerntorn said to a group of Dwarves at the Red Dragon Tavern.

Give me more! Roy Drakestone said as he held a mug of ale in his hands.

Running up to him was Oskar Gundersen with a mug of ale in each hand.

I have two... already... he said, starting to tip over.

The Prince looked just like his father, the King. He had the same round face yet inherited his light brown hair and light brown eyes from his mother . He was also overweight and